


Dreamweaver

by spacehopper



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 00:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14705580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/pseuds/spacehopper
Summary: “You can kiss me. If you want.”With a palpable shock, Martin realizes that Jon is scared, and Jon is uncertain, and Jon needs him to act. And maybe Martin’s not the smartest, or the bravest, and he’s definitely not suave. But this, he can do.





	Dreamweaver

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline intentionally super vague, but definitely during season 3.

Martin is trying very, very hard not to move. Jon’s head is on his shoulder, hair tickling his chin. He’d been slouched when Jon had fallen asleep, and his back is killing him. He’d only had a bag of crisps for dinner, leaving him stomach growling ominously. And he really has to pee. But Jon needs to sleep, and he’s never been this close. Not for this long. And maybe it’s terrible, to enjoy this so much. Selfish, and a bit creepy, to savor the warm press of Jon’s arm against his leg. But he’d been so scared, and he’d missed Jon, and he’d wanted this longer than he’d care to admit.

The telly’s on, the low background drone of some program on arachnids. A spider does a mating dancing on screen, spindly legs flailing as it proudly displays its colored abdomen. Normally, Martin would be fascinated, but he can’t focus, not with Jon here. Not like this. The spider twirls, and Martin sucks in a sharp breath. Jon’s hand has started to wander further up his leg. Jon would be mortified if he were awake. Which means Martin could definitely wake him. 

On screen, the spider has successfully won over a female. Jon’s hand has stopped moving, but he’s turned his head, breath hot on Martin’s neck. Martin swallows, and tries to focus on the spiders, but they’re mating now, so that’s not good either. Jon’s hand twitches, catching on Martin’s inner thigh. And he can’t help it. He starts.

“What?” The words press against Martin’s throat, the tip of a tongue darting out to graze his skin. Jon turns, still half-asleep, and his hand makes contact. 

Martin squeaks, and Jon’s eyes shoot open.

He scrambles away, swaying to his feet and watching Martin with wide eyes. If he doesn’t do something now, Jon will run. Jon always runs. He’d play it off as sparing Martin, protecting him. Or some other self-sacrificing nonsense. And Martin can’t let him do that. So he lunges forward, to trap Jon’s arm in his hand, just long enough to explain, to calm him down. Maybe make him some tea. He misses, but manages to grab his shoulder. Enough to hold Jon in place.

“I’m sorry, I’m tired, I hadn’t realized it was enough to fall asleep.” He’s trying to extract himself from Martin’s grip, so Martin has to say something. To make Jon understand.

“It’s fine, let me—” Make you some tea. It sounded better in his head. Jon’s eyes are still wide and panicked. Before he realizes what he’s doing, his foolish hands tangle themselves in Jon’s shirt, over his heart. 

“Martin,” Jon says. Conciliatory and almost condescending. But Martin isn’t angry.

“Please don’t leave.” 

Martin stares at Jon, wide-eyed and flushed, and Jon is staring back, eyes focused on his face, not his eyes but— No, that can’t be right. And yet he’s sure of it, hope fluttering in his chest. 

Martin tugs Jon closer, and Jon comes, steadying himself with a hand on Martin’s hip. He has to be dreaming, but if this is a dream, it’s a good one. And he has so few good dreams these days. 

“Martin,” Jon says again, barely more than a whisper. 

“I want to kiss you. I mean, if that’s okay with you.” The words tumble from his mouth, an awkward jumble of hope and fear. Tim would make fun of him. Tim would do this better. Tim would never, ever want to kiss Jon. “I mean, obviously it’d have to be okay with you, I wouldn’t want to otherwise, not if you didn’t.” And then he stops, which is truly for the best. Because Jon’s laughing.

It’s helpless, and slightly broken, and oddly warm. Martin is torn between wanting to run and the desire to stay here forever, because the hand on his hip has tightened, holding him close, not pushing him away like he’d feared. He makes a weird little yelp as Jon’s other hand brushes against the corner of his mouth, rubbing against the skin.

“You had a bit of crisp there.” Which is incredibly unattractive, not that anything about Martin is all that great. It’s a miracle Jon hasn’t fled. A miracle, or—

“You’re not under some sort of weird spell, are you?” 

“What? No, that’s absurd.” He says it with the same derision he reserves for particularly incredulous statements. 

“Okay, because it just seems really unlikely. I mean, you didn’t even like me at first. But I think you like me now? I’m pretty sure, at least. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here, would you?” Jon tenses, and Martin adds, “But I’m really glad you are.”

Jon’s lips twitch into a smile. 

“You can kiss me. If you want.” 

With a palpable shock, Martin realizes that Jon is scared, and Jon is uncertain, and Jon needs him to act. And maybe Martin’s not the smartest, or the bravest, and he’s definitely not suave. But this, he can do. 

Their noses knock together, and Jon mutters an apology because he turned his head the wrong way. And just like that, the threads holding Martin are cut. He moves forward in a rush. And maybe he shouldn’t have immediately gone for tongue, but from the soft noise Jon makes, and the way his fingers dig into Martin’s hip, he’s not upset. Far from it, as he responds in kind, and Martin feels lightheaded, elation suffusing his every nerve. Because Jon is here, an Jon is kissing him, warm and not perfect at all, but that’s how he knows it’s real. 

When Jon finally breaks the kiss, they’re both panting. Jon is practically scarlet, and he won’t meet Martin’s eyes. And it’s adorable, but Martin won’t say that. Jon would be embarrassed and probably respond with something snarky Martin knows he’d regret saying later. So instead he wraps his hand around Jon’s and drags him back to the sofa. And Jon follows, and even smiles at him. Martin’s heart squirms in his chest, which isn’t really a metaphor he wants to use, thinking back on it. And if Jon weren’t here, maybe that’d be enough to plunge him into nightmares. But instead, after a moment of hesitation, Jon leans against his side, and Martin wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“What is this?” Jon’s staring at the telly and frowning. A brightly colored spider is being consumed on screen, mating complete, and Jon burrows closer. But then, Jon has never been fond of spiders.

“A nature documentary.” In a moment of audacity, he adds, “I’ll protect you.”

“Oh, shut up.” Jon’s head drops against Martin’s shoulder, silken strands of hair brushing his cheek, and his hand has inched up Martin’s leg. Martin weaves their fingers together, and hopes this dream will last.


End file.
